


Saturn

by Rainydaysunrise



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ? - Freeform, Depression, Explicit Language, F/M, Homelessness, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Dean Winchester, Self-Esteem Issues, Temporarily Female Castiel (Supernatural), possibly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-05-10 06:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14731664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainydaysunrise/pseuds/Rainydaysunrise
Summary: But he could see those green eyes in his memory, green like leaves. He loved those eyes, but they did not love him back. It had been made clear that he wasn't welcome back after Sam.And in a way, he knew that it would end like this. Broken and possibly drunk, not giving a fuck.Waves of darkness were pulling him under, and heaven could come with blissful silence .Because hell was here.Hell was without Dean.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be multiple chapters. So, sorry... I hope you like it and have a great day! :D

"Dean Winchester..." 

"Dean..." 

 

"Dean."

There was nothing else that could come from the mouth of the black haired man as he watched the boot clad feet walk away. 

All of this time and he was being done in by a man who just wanted his coat. Ironic.

Blood was dripping out in places that it shouldn't. But he didn't know if he could stop it, fuck, he didn't think he even wanted it to stop. Death was final for angels. 

Final meant no more streets.

Final meant no more fucking dumpster diving.

Final meant no more fighting.

No more cold. 

No more late nights walking in the rain just to stay safe. 

No more.

Just no more.

Nothing.

But he could see those green eyes in his memory, green like leaves. He loved those eyes, but they did not love him back. It had been made clear that he wasn't welcome back after Sam. 

And in a way, he knew that it would end like this. Broken and possibly drunk, not giving a fuck.

Waves of darkness were pulling him under, and heaven could come with blissful silence . 

Because hell was here.

Hell was without Dean. 

 

-

News of the body being found was back page, last 5 minutes of the hour, news. Nothing out of the ordinary for that area of the city.

(((Body found in an alleyway)))

People went on with their lives, nobody knew who it was so nobody thought about it. Just another homeless man. 

(((Signs of a struggle)))

Everyone knew the not-so-important details of how; but no one cared. It was not important. 

(((Body found in early morning of January 14th. Fatal wounds cause of death.)))

The details were not important. People went on with their lives, walking by the cheap wreath bought from a charity shop to leave a small token of sympathy.

(((Victim left with graffiti)))

It was not important.

It was never important until someone else went missing. 

(((Graffiti described as angel wings. Details to be released as they come.)))

-

Driving was a comfort to Dean, like therapy, but with a cause. 

He had directions, a job, and no reason to think about any of the shit that he'd been dealing with for the last seven months. 

The radio was playing, news playing in case he'd pick up something. Just news and follow up's. Boring. 

Hunting was a comfort too. It was routine. 

Find. Kill. Leave. 

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Nothing to it. At least, not anymore. He didn't take the time to research whatever it was, not like Sammy. It was all hardwired into his brain by now. 

Sammy... No. Fuck no. He would not think about it. He would not get angry. He would not deal with this right now. Later, yes. Now, no. 

"Case. Think about the case, Dean." He mumbled to himself, gripping the steering wheel tighter. 

Skinwalker or something. Lure it out, kill it, go home. Focus.

Don't think. Don't think. Don't think. Don't think about Sam. Bobby was right; moving on was healing. And God knows, healing hurts. 

Foot of the gas, he sped up; wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.

-

The darkness was wonderful. He felt warm, happy, calm. Many things. 

Occasionally, he'd delve into happier memories.

Dean laughing.

Sam being motherly towards both of them, constantly on them to eat better and get enough sleep. 

Sometimes just the thought of laying in his bed at the bunker. 

Those things made the darkness a little less... dark? He didn't know the word for it. 

But it also wasn't his problem anymore, so why care?

He settled back into the blissful darkness, calm but anxious as he tried to not think of anything.

Just breathe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So this chapter was kinda rushed, so I'm sorry. Some tags might be added later on, but I hope that's chill with you guys. Thank you all for reading. I really really appreciate it! 
> 
> Much love,
> 
> M

The wreath needed to be taken down.

 

Waterlogged.

Ruined.

Colors faded and bordering on grey. 

 

Dean stared at the alleyway; last sighting of the Skinwalker; nothing else since. He glanced at the newspaper article in his hand, graffiti wasn't usually a Skinwalker thing. But then again, anything was possible.

Stepping forward, he realized how far the alley went back. It was like it was endless and, if he was honest, it scared him a little bit.

Just black and bleek and wet.

He swallowed the fear and continued on. 

There was a...charge, like electricity in the air. 

(((Body found in an alleyway)))

That wasn't normal. Fuck.

(((Signs of a struggle)))

If the bastard was still here, he wouldn't be able to fight alone. He'd be dead before he could blink.

(((Body found in early morning of January 14th. Fatal wounds cause of death.)))

Still, he continued on, treading lightly so he wouldn't startle whatever was out there. Maybe he could stand a chance.

(((Victim left with graffiti)))

The sight in front of him made his stomach drop. He couldn't- No. 

(((Graffiti described as angel wings. Details to be released as they come)))

He turned and ran. And Dean Winchester was not a man of light heart. 

(((Graffiti described as angel wings. Details to be released as they come)))

Burned into the ground, were the wings that he hoped he'd never see.

He needed to get to the morgue.

-

The daughter.

The sister.

The fuck up.

She was still young, but not too young. She was old, but not too old.

An in between in her twenties. 

And in her years, she had seen madness and days of darkness. Demons that hid in the corners of her vision threatened to overrun her; but always managing to stay far enough away that she couldn't touch them.

She didn't care what waited for her, didn't care to know. None of it mattered anyways.

But in the end, everything mattered.

Sitting up in bed, she buried her face in her hands. She needed a bath and to get ready for work. 

Even though they'd be fine without her. Nothing major happened on sunday nights.

 

She got up, turning on the news as she went, and shut the bathroom door behind her. News of a homeless man found dead, her heart clenched. The only homeless man on this side of the city was that black haired weirdo with the dirty trench coat. She'd bring him coffee every now and then when it when the weather was too much.

Turning on the shower as she stripped, too much. Too much to deal with right now, she thought as she stepped into the spray.

Too much to think about.


	3. Chapter 3

Walking through the double doors of the morgue was something that Dean had done thousands of times before.

There was always some poor sap, done in by whatever had mauled, eaten, digested, or burned him.

A normal day, really.

But this time was different. This time it meant Castiel.

Maybe. 

But he hoped not. God, he hoped not. Maybe the wings were Gabriel's or Uriel's or some other poor fucker stuck in a rut. 

Not Cas.

Never Cas.

Thoughts buzzed through his head, the "What if's?" and "How's?" Not offering any doubt that it might be another.

Then again, maybe the poor bitch had done himself in- 

"Fuck off, Dean." He told himself, sometimes the voice in his head was a real bastard. 

He continued down the fluorescent hallway; hoping for the best.

-

Castiel knew something was wrong. He didn't know what, but something about his blissful darkness felt off.

It was not peaceful.

It didn't feel like he was finished anymore.

Almost like...

He had to go back, and even though he didn't want to; he had no choice.

-

The morgue was cold, all of them were, but this one...Had a bad feeling to it, almost like it knew how fucked up this whole situation was. 

"So, you're the brother? Poor sap's been in here for a few days."

The man smelled like death and whatever gross thing he had had for lunch.

He smelled like death.

Dean hated it.

Dean hated him. 

"Yeah. I'm his brother." He said, keeping his voice even. 

The man, fuck his name, walked to the freezer and pulled out a sheet lined figure. 

"Alright, so all you have to do is identify him. Then paperwork. Then we'll send him to the funeral home for arrangements."

Dean couldn't hear him over the buzzing in his ears, keeping his breathing steady and his eyes on the sheet covered figure in front of him.

What if it was him? What if this meant that he couldn't fix it? 

What if?

What if? 

What i- 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, lightly shaking him.

"Sir?! I said, are you ready?" It was the dick in a white coat, although maybe he wasn't THAT much of a dick if he was worried.

Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah. I'm fine. I'm ready. Just, shocked, y'know? Guy had his issues." 

Lying through his teeth, great.

The man nodded in understanding. 

Still, he kept his eyes on the sheet covered face.

As it was pulled back, his breath caught in his throat. Someone had cleaned up most of the damage from whatever had beaten him. 

"Cas." He exhaled, staring into the lifeless face of the angel he once knew so well. 

The man walked away, allowing him to take it in. Fuck it, this wasn't right. This was the farthest thing FROM right.

"No scratches? Teeth marks? Anything...Abnormal?" The words were automatic, eyes locked on those non-seeing blue eyes.

"What? No. Nothing that was out of the ordinary for a mugging. We see these all the time, especially in that part of the city." 

Dean tuned him out again; taking Castiel's stiff, cold hand in his own.

Completely normal then.

What a fucking way to go.  
-

'Castiel...Castiel...?"

Someone was calling his name, they had been for a while. 

At first, he had tried to ignore it. But it continued on and grew to be more irritating with every passing minute, hour, day. It made him aware of time passing.

He hated it.

He wanted it gone.

He wanted to stay.

Of course, he tried to reason with it; but found that he couldn't find his words. It was like he didn't have a voice anymore.

Then there was the tugging.

He could feel it pulling at every inch of his consciousness. At first, very lightly and then growing stronger, like whatever it was didn't want him to fall too far back.

When in reality, that's all he wanted to do.

'Please...' He thought, hoping the panic he felt was evident in the plea. 

'Please let me stay.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you all for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

She didn't replace the flowers on the memorial. 

They were old and rotting and smelled horrible from the rain.

But still she didn't replace them.

She couldn't bring herself to.

"Castiel" was what the paper had called him. The obituary was short.

"Castiel Winchester. Friend and brother. Survived in death by his brother Dean Winchester and preceded in by his brother Samuel Winchester.

Born xx-xx-xxxx  
Died xx-xx-xxxx"

It was short, sweet, and to the point. Nothing pointing out the kind things that he had done or how he told the best stories about faraway places that sounded like heaven.

Since, as he put it, Hell was being here without the green eyed man.

He had said a name once, let it slip on accident, but she had forgotten. If he wanted her to know, he would have said it again and again.

Like the name was like cherries, sweet and irresistible. 

Or something like that. 

God, she sounded like a fortune cookie.

She brushed her black hair behind her ear and sighed, staring into the alleyway. 

It was dark...? 

Well, of course it was dark. But the darkness seemed almost too black and bleak. It made her nervous. 

Fuck. 

Fuck.

Fuck.

She felt herself stepping forward into the black.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck. 

The air was damp and smelled of rot. Maybe maybe it was just the wreath. But it smelled too close. 

Fuck.

Fuc-

‘Open your eyes.’

The shock of the voice almost made her stop. That wasn't her voice. 

"Excuse me?" She asked, listening to her feet scrape against the gravel.

Someone had to be in the alleyway with her. Their presence pulling her closer and closer to what felt like eternity.

She wasn't crazy.

She wasn't.

She couldn't be.

‘Open your eyes.’ 

Whatever it was, it was more forceful this time. Dumbfounded, she laughed.

"I've got to be losing it."

‘You aren't. You need to open your eyes.’

"They are open..I'm literally standing right here. Where are you anyways?"

‘What do you see?’ 

She looked around, growing a bit frightened as she realized that the voice couldn't be coming from the alley. 

It was too narrow. 

Fuck.

"Okay. I don't know what kind of party trick this is, but you need to stop. It's not funny." 

‘You didn't answer my question.’

"You didn't stop being weird."

If a disembodied voice could laugh, she would have swore it did. 

‘True. But like you always said, weirdo's stick together.’

Holy shit, it was him.

It was Castiel.

‘I know this is a lot to process. But please, open your eyes. Let me help.’

"What are you talking about? They're open."

‘Blink. You'll see.’

And she did.

Once....

 

Things stayed the same.

 

Twice.

The world got dimmer, clouds were rolling in.

 

Three times.

...

....  
.......

 

.....

 

..  
Suddenly, she was on the ground, air pulled from her lungs as she desperately tried to get it back. 

Her ears were ringing. 

"What the shit?" She mumbled, unable to grasp what had happened.

Obviously she was losing it.

She needed to get home to her bed and sleep for days. Not to leave her apartment or check her phone. 

She just needed to sleep.

But something was wrong, there was a warm wetness underneath her and her breathing wouldn't even out.

There was someone else in the alleyway too. It walked away from her, holding something small and shiny. She tried to call for help, but her voice was almost gone.

As if she'd been screaming? 

Had she? 

The ringing in her ears proved that.

"Cas...tiel? What?"

‘You're dying. You went too far in and…’ 

"What...?"

‘I'm sorry. But...I can help. I just need you to ask.’

She could see black lightning in the edges of her vision.

‘Tell me to help you. It won't hurt for much longer, child.’

Burying her face in the pavement, she tried the blinking thing.

Once, twice, three times. Once, twice, three times. Once twice, three times.

Everything stayed the same.

Once, twice, three times. Once, twice, three times. Once twice, three times.

She stayed on the pavement.

Once, twice, three times. Once, twice, three times. Once twice, three times.

The city still buzzed around her.

She still couldn't get a good breath.

‘Please let me help.’

Out of desperation and fear, she cried out. The only words she could say...

"Cas...Help." 

And then came the darkness.

And nothing more.

-

Castiel felt himself being ripped from whatever peace he had. 

Pain.

Just pain.

Anger.

Hurt.

Sadness.

All of these swirling together as he tried to claw his way back with hands he could not feel.

Voices and whispers and growls and barks. Too many noises. Too much going on.

And dammit, it hurt. Or at least something did.

Heaven was not supposed to hurt.

Only hell did, 

and hell was without the memory of Dean. 

‘You’re going home, Cas.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that it's been so long! Like...2 or 3 weeks. I've been really busy with work and stuff, but I'm hoping to have more time to write in the coming days. 
> 
> I hope you all are doing good! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Dean Winchester sat at home.

Alone.

Drinking.

Because of course, he was. 

I's not like he had anything better to do. No one to see or to hear him bitch about how life was unfair.

The only people he wanted to talk to were dead. And these days, what was dead stayed dead.

And Castiel wasn't coming back.

Fucker was long gone and burned.

Dean knew because he had watched the ashes rise into the vent long after the sun rose.

He had stayed with him to the end, just as promised.

And now he was left with guilt. 

The guilt that he had thrown the only family that he had left on the street to fend for himself and now he didn't even get to fix this.

Life sucked. 

He reached into the paper bag on the table and pulled out another large bottle, the rustling echoing through the bunker.

"Here's to another long night." He mumbled, lifting it in an ironic cheer to himself before cracking the top. 

He poured two glasses, downed one, and left the other for the fallen.

-

Anger, followed by confusion, filled Castiel as he opened his eyes. The sidewalk he had died on filled his view.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It. Wasn't. Fair.

He sat up, regretting it immediately as stiff muscles contracted and cramped.

Fuck. 

This was bad. This was very very bad. 

No. Things were too different. 

These legs were too skinny. 

These hips were too narrow.

He felt younger than he had with Jimmy. Much, much younger.

New host. Female by biology and in mind.

He could hear the voice inside of his head, remnants of the girl's last thoughts dying out. 

The voice sounded familiar. But not committed to memory. 

Castiel needed Dean. 

Needed answers really. And it seemed that Dean could be the only one to help. 

She, Castiel, shakily pulled herself to her feet.

There was a wetness on her back but it could wait. It was about to rain again.

She needed to get to a phone.

She needed Dean.

-

Stumbling through the darkness in the pouring rain made her throat close in panic. The host had a fear of the dark apparently that made carrying on difficult. 

The streetlights didn't help either, though she tried to stay under them as much as possible.

There were directions to a small apartment, home, embedded in the host's memory. But it was too far away, the other end of town and she was too tired to walk more than nessarcery. 

But still she carried on.

Angry.

Angry at the world.

Angry at Chuck.

Angry at Dean. 

Angry at every fucking one that had walked by her when she was Jimmy. 

And most of all, she was angry that she had been brought back to this place of rot and filth for no purpose other than to "go home". 

What the fuck did that even mean?

\- 

An hour of walking and she finally stumbled across a payphone, relief bubbling up inside of her as she let out a quiet sob.

Dean. 

The receiver was cold in her hands.

Castiel held the phone as she, sobbed quietly. Dialing the only number she only number she knew by heart.

One ring.

Two ring.

Three ring.

Four.

"Hello?"

The voice was familiar, the voice meant Dean. He had answered.

But she couldn't bring herself to speak yet, in shock that he'd even answered.

"Hello?" He said again, squeaking heard in the background. Shit, she had woken him up.

She didn't even know the time.

Finally she opened her mouth. "Dean." The name felt strange in this mouth, with this voice. It was too high.

But still, it made the heart in this, no her, chest, speed up.

"Who is this?"

"Dean...It's me." 

"Me who?"

She struggled for a few moments with a name. The evening's events making a sob rise in her throat that threatened to leave her lips if she opened them too soon. 

The rain got heavier, leaving her feeling trapped.

"Me who?" Dean's voice was stern, looking for answers even if she didn't have any yet.

Thunder rolled through the sky, making the city shake. 

One.

Two.

Three.

"Castiel." 

There was the sound of glass breaking as she heard him mumbled "Fuck off." 

Then there was a dial tone.

She hung up and dialed again. 

Fuck. He needed to understand. 

"Call again and I'll kill you. This isn't funny."

"Dean, wait. Just listen." The sob broke through and the flood gates opened. 

And she explained everything, the quiet breathing on the other end keeping her afloat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read! I'm so grateful for all of you! 
> 
> Addressing things in this chapter: Castiel's pronoun change. I read in a few supernatural articles that angels do not have gender. So they adjust better to the new host. I hope I did alright. 
> 
> Special thank you to Letbuckyeathisgoddamnplums for the kind comment! Just thank you so much!


	6. Chapter 6

Dean drove through the black streets, the clock on the impala dash reading 2:12AM.

He was anxious, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as the radio played. He'd tried singing along, songs he knew and songs he didn't, but it didn't help.

There was one thing on his mind.

Cas.

The voice on the phone had made his heart skip. He knew that dialect anywhere. But as far as knew, it was a scag imitating the voice he longed to hear again.

For all he knew, he was driving straight to his death. But what else did he have to lose? 

He thought back to the conversation, to soothing the terrified girl that claimed to be castiel. She sobbed in his ear for an hour before he had said anything. 

((("I didn't want to come back. I wanted to stay. Why the fuck couldn't I have stayed, Dean? Where I was, I knew that I was done. Fucking shit, Dean. Everything is so messed up."))

Poor Kid.

Poor Cas. 

Putting on the blinker, he pulled into the nearest gas station, needing to fill up and for some caffeine. He needed to stay awake and to be able to drive. Last thing he needed was to be pulled over because he wasn't paying attention.

Not when his world was crashing in.

Dean let out a sigh and got out of the car. The place looked like a ghost town minus the dead eyed cashier inside. 

'...Getting closer.'

"...the fuck?" Dean turned around, looking for the bastard who had whispered in his ear. 

No one?

No one. God, he must have been more tired than he had initially thought. 

He headed into the store and wandered the aisles looking for something sugary.

'Keeping him waiting? Keep us all waiting. Keep us all waiting. Keep us all waiting.'

"This isn't funny. Who are you?" He mumbled, not wanting to grab the attention of the clerk who didn't seem to be paying attention to him.

'Keep us waiting. Keep us waiting. Keep us waiting. Keep us waiting.' 

He started humming.

'Keep us waiting. Keep us waiting. keep us waiting. Keep us waiting.' 

The coffee pot held firm in his hand as he poured. The smell of burnt coffee beans filling his nose.

'Keep us waiting. Keep us waiting. Keep us waiting. Keep us waiting. He's home. He's home. He's home. Keep him waiting.'

"Stop!" He heard himself snap, the feeling of hot coffee scalding his hands.

"Fucking shit!" 

"Y'alright?" The cashier asked, looking up from their magazine.

Dean looked around, dazed and a bit confused. 

"I'm fine." He breathed, reaching into his pocket and grabbing the bills he had wadded up, dropping them on the counter. 

He left with the burnt coffee, the impala tires squealing as he tried to make sense of the voice.

-

Castiel stood under the awning of the phone booth, watching traffic pass as morning light started to break. 

The sky was grey. The kind of grey that made everything shimmer when it was wet.

Because of course everything was wet.

It was fucking raining.

Or it had been.

Castiel froze, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. Okay, so this host had been horribly sarcastic.

And seemed to have an attitude with being asked stupid things. Or stupid thoughts. Or really just anything stupid. 

She chuckled quietly, watching the cars go by, hoping that everyone of them would be her knight in shining impala. 

"Fuck off." She muttered to herself, voice still a bit rough from the night before.

The phone call had been an hour long, several times the automated voice asked her to put 10 cents in and thank whomever was listening that it was in the dispenser.

Luck, right? All she could hope for that it wasn't a genie or whatever.

She watched as a car turned down the street where she stood, a black car.

Holy shit, it was Dean. 

She held her breath, half hoping the Impala would continue on or have the wrong mirrors or something.

But it stopped in front of her and the door opened.

Forest green eyes met hers.

"Cas?" The roughness of his voice, the bags under his eyes, it was him. 

She stepped forward, out from the safety of the awning, voice clearer and maybe a bit more steady than it had been. But it was there. He was there.

"Hello Dean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello everyone! So, another chapter. I hope you liked it and I hope you all have a great day/night.   
> I probably won't update again until next week or so, I'm going out of town! but I shall be back soon!  
> Thank you all for reading! I appreciate you all!
> 
>  
> 
> A special thank you for the lovely comments goes to: Letbuckyeathisgoddamnplums and Ravenclaw_Girl, You both made my week! Thank you!
> 
> I have a lot planned for this, so stay tuned! <3


	7. Chapter 7

Moments passed, the two of them staring at each other as if they were afraid to say anything.

But like all good things, someone had to ruin it.

"I fucking burned you." 

It was meant as an observation, but it came out angry. Dean felt a tightness in his chest at the look of hurt that graced Castiel's face.

That strange, different face.

The eyes didn't shine enough to be a skin walker. 

"You burned me." 

"You were dead."

"You burned me. Fucking great, Dean." She rubbed her face and tapped her feet. This host apparently had a problem with standing still.

Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek, pondering his next sentence. 

"Cas, the way it looked, you weren't coming back and I wasn't about to risk you being some bastard's meat puppet." 

He watched as Cas started to pace around. 

"That means Jimmy is dead." The lack of emotion in her voice made him flinch.

"I know, Cas."

She turned on him; eyes watering with anger as her pacing came to a quick halt. 

"Do you really, Dean? Do you really understand?" There was anger in her voice, a bite that was bigger than her bark. 

Neither were expecting this. Neither knew how to deal with the sudden rush of emotion..

Dean just put his hands up, showing he didn’t mean any harm. 

"Let's just go home, Cas." 

Castiel stared at him, not sure if it was anger or anxiety bubbling up in her chest. But she couldn't just stay here. Not when he'd actually come.

Fuck. She still couldn't believe he had actually come to get her. 

"Home." The voice was still unfamiliar, but it wasn't as hoarse anymore. It was stronger and clearer. 

"Home." Dean repeated, gesturing towards the impala. 

She shook her head in disbelief and slowly got into the passenger seat of the impala. 

"Weird fucking day." She leaned against the window and closed her eyes, hoping sleep would take her.

‘Told you.’ She could hear the voice ringing through her skull. But didn’t pay it any mind this time.

She was too tired.

Maybe sleep would take her.

And eventually, it did.  
-

Dean was watching the road, he swore he was. But the girl in his passenger seat was distracting him.

She had nodded off a few hours ago, shortly after the sun had risen and the sky was no longer cloudy. And she hadn't woken up yet, in fact, she seemed peaceful. 

As if she hadn’t slept in months. 

If the string of drool that had been pooling on the sleeve of her black sweater was any consolation. 

Cas, this whole situation was complicated. 

So incredibly complicated. 

Dead. Not dead. Neither really surprised him anymore. 

Now if it was Sam- Shut up, Dean. 

No. 

If the small surge of anger that threatened to crawl up his throat and out his mouth was ever going to go away, he needed to think about it. He needed to make sure this kid was safe. 

He put on the blinker and pulled off the road towards the bunker, the transition from pavement to gravel startling Castiel awake.

"What the hell?" She mumbled, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

"We're almost home, kid." Dean replied, placing a reassuring hand on Cas's arm in an attempt to soothe her. 

She shrugged his hand away, shaking her head.

"Dean, I'm not a kid. I'm a centuries old ex-angel of the lord. So stop with the kid thing." Castiel snipped, a small smile gracing her lips. 

Dean gave her a look of amusement. "Someone's in a mood, aren't they?"

"Bite me. I've had a long week."

"Obviously. I mean, look at you."

"Fuck off. I look fine. It isn’t the first female host and it certainly won’t be the last.”

"Yeah, you look fine. Totally fine." Dean gestured towards her outfit, the dried blood, the drool, everything.

She was about to resort to name calling when the car stopped, the entrance to the bunker was in sight.

All she could do was breathe a sigh of relief.

Home. 

Familiarity, but her host's brain was in mild panic mode.

'It's fine. It's just home.' She tried to reassure herself, feeling her heart speed up. 

This was going to take a lot of getting used too.

She got out of car and stretched, muscles popping. 

Dean walked in front of her, leading her into the bunker, it was warmer in here. 

Warmer than she had been in months.

She shook off the bitterness and passed Dean once inside. 

Stopping briefly, she turned to him and smiled a bit, trying to be friendly.

"I'm going to get a shower and go to bed...I'm kind of tired."

He watched her, gauging reactions and emotions. "Sounds good. I might too...If you need anything, wake me up." 

She nodded and then walked towards the staircase. The air between them still tense.

‘Should have known that not that much was going to change.’ She thought, tracing the wall with her fingers once out of sight. 

Home.

-

The room was exactly how it was when she'd left.

Papers and clothes still strewn on the floor, the bed unmade. There hadn't exactly been time to tidy up last time. 

God, she hated this. 

But hate as much as she did, she fell into the unmade mess unceremoniously and sighed, face buried in the cool sheets.

Sleep took her almost immediately.

She was so tired. 

But God knew she was so grateful.

-

Dean sat at the table, trying to making sense of the past 24 hours.   
Cas was back, obviously far from dead.

But had been dead.

Was dead.

Dean didn't fucking know, the kid just seemed like she needed a good rest. So he'd grill her in the morning after they’d both had a chance to sort themselves out.

She looked like she needed a few days rest. 

Maybe.

'Looks like you found him.'

The voice sounded almost snide.

"Fuck you." Dean thought out loud while getting up. He wasn’t in the mood to be hearing voices. 

He'd make it make sense in the morning, right now...He just needed sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while. We don't have internet at my house right now because people suck and public wifi is a godsend for which I am grateful for. So I'll be updating when I can, hopefully a lot more often than I did with this chapter. Sorry if this is a bit rambly, I kinda just wrote without thinking.
> 
> NEW TAGS ARE COMING NEXT CHAPTER AND MAYBE A TRIGGER WARNING EVENTUALLY. I'M POSTING THIS IN THE COMMENTS HERE SO IT'S YKNOW, HERE. So make sure to check those and take care of yourselves, I want you guys to stay safe.
> 
> Also, I'll be dropping a few oneshots of Saturn that aren't directly related but kind of tie in? Mostly just fluffy stuff. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading, I appreciate it so much and hope you all have a great day! 
> 
> Special thanks for the sweet comments go to: mary, patimex, Ravenclaw_Girl, and Letbuckyeathisgoddamnplums. Thank you guys so so much! You all make me so happy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you go through google docs and find the chapter you thought you lost... So here it is. I'm so sorry. 
> 
> This comes before everything that happens in the one shots, but after this, I will continue writing the chapters as one shots. I love this story and am not abandoning...just continuing there. Thank you all for the support and I hope you all have a great day! :D

Dreams were few and far between for Castiel.

But when she had them, they usually had to mean something.

Usually.

Tonight, of course, was no exception.

Though she wished it were.

She was so tired.

The dreams usually started as memories, things that lay forgotten in her head that had once been important but had been stored away for nights like this.

Green eyes and red flannel.

Streets and snow. 

Cas knew the signs and always knew when it was anything but a pleasant dream.

She tried to focus through the haze even though the threat of darkness was pulling at her.

It had been so long since she had had a proper sleep.

And now so long since what was supposed to be her final sleep.

(((The sounds of waves crashing)))

She just wanted to sleep.

(((The feeling of hatred burning her chest)))

She just wanted to sleep.

(((The smell of burning flesh)))

She

(((Shining eyes close enough that she could smell it's breath. The smell of rot and decay)))

Just

(((It was going to get her. She had to run. run. run away. Her legs were frozen.)))

Wanted

(Body found in an alleyway. Jimmy's dead eyes staring upward.)))

To

(((Dean. Blood. So much blood. Was it his? Was it hers?)))

Sleep.

(((Darkness. Sweet darkness.)))

Settling into the blissful darkness, cool and sweet. 

She was not cold.

She was not hungry.

She was calm.

The dream was over. 

Thank god, it was over.


End file.
